"Glad to know you, sir. My name—is Terry." The other admitted this reticence with a faint smile.
"I got a name around here for keeping my mouth shut and not butting in on another gent's game. But I always noticed that when a gent is in a losing run, half the time he don't know it. Maybe that might be the way with you. I been watching and seen your winnings shrink considerable lately."
Terry weighed his money. "Yes, it's shrunk a good deal."
"Stand out of the game till later on. Come over and have a bite to eat with me."
He went willingly, suddenly aware of a raging appetite and a dinner long postponed. The man of the black beard was extremely friendly.
"One of the prettiest runs I ever see, that one you made," he confided when they were at the table in the hotel. "You got a system, I figure."
"A new one," said Terry. "I've never played before."
The other blinked.
"Beginner's luck, I suppose," said Terry frankly. "I started with fifty, and now I suppose I have about eight hundred."
"Not bad, not bad," said the other. "Too bad you didn't stop half an hour before. Just passing through these parts?"